The Perfect Imperfection
by Vinagrette
Summary: [ Removed, edited, and re-posted ] Drao Malfoy has a knack for getting what he wants. But with Harry, what he wants comes too easy. Does it also come with a price? [SLASH]
1. One More Than Mild Interest

These characters aren't mine. Shocking, I know.  
  
Slash here, slash there. Maybe some slash in the corner, too, I haven't checked yet.  
  
This has been revised and reposted according to the new FF.Net guidelines   
[ Read: No explicit sex this time.]  
  
  
  
  
  
"You don't honestly expect me to believe that do you?" I stared at him, absolutely stunned. Stunned, and insulted I might add. To think I'd believe such a cock-and-bull story was absurd to say the absolute least.  
  
"...It's the truth. It's the God honest truth. Why would I lie to you?" His lips were dry and his eyes never left the floor. Good. I certainly didn't want to look at them.  
  
"I don't know. Why don't you tell me? You're the one with all the secrets, all the answers!" I was losing it, I knew. But how can you stop two trains from colliding? You can't. How can you stop Draco Malfoy from getting what he wants? You can't. You really, really can't.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Well, of course you could give it a shot. That's what he did. But, he learned quickly enough not to deny me of my needs. Needs and wants. Each as important as the other, you know...I'm sure I sound like the arrogant bastard, but I believe that if you think hard enough, you'll realize that it's the other way around. *He's* the one who struts around like he owns the damn place. *He's* the one who never had to work for a fucking thing in his entire life. Not that I've done much real work, but curses and hexes are pretty tiring, let me tell you.   
  
Even so, he gets what he wants all the time. Why shouldn't I get what I want? There, you see? There's no reason. No reason at all.  
  
Anyway, as I was saying. Needless to say, he was a bit surprised when he found out what I wanted. Maybe that's why he was so resistant...or maybe it was because he wanted it, too, only he didn't want me to know. But I already knew. Oh, almost everybody knew. Everybody important, anyway. It's no big secret. Harry's about as flaming as that stupid Weasley's hair. He never learned to keep it down. Then again, what *had* he learned? If you ignore everything he does with his mouth-absolutely nothing.  
  
He wasn't really as scared of me as the others had been. I admire that in a person. To be scared when you know you should. Don't pretend to get brave with me, everybody knows I could take out an entire Hogwarts house with one call to my father. For once, brave and courageous Harry Potter kept his mouth shut. Silent consent, as I saw it. Of course there isn't much you can do, pinned against a wall without your wand. He liked it, I knew. There we no signs of protest when my lips met his. Not a single protest as my tongue glided down the smooth skin of his neck. And I was most certainly not pushed away when my hand wound it's way down into his boxers.  
  
He liked getting it just as much as I liked giving it. It's a strange feeling, really, to have your worst enemy, the person you hate more than anybody in the world, writhing beneath you. In pleasure or pain, it doesn't really matter. At least, not to me, and this is all about me, remember? It's all about being in power and in control. Where I like being best. Harry might act like he's on top of the world, but the only person on top is me. Secretly, he enjoys not being the front man. He says he hates it, but if he does, why does he meet me outside the dungeon every other night? And why would he go through such great lengths to keep the truth hidden from me? He knows I'll find out eventually and that'll be the end of it, the end of us. He hates thinking about it, I know. I know him as well as I know my own broom.  
  
That's the way it is with the person you love.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
He stayed silent, his glasses sliding slowly down the bridge of his nose.  
  
"That's what I thought. I knew you were a whore, Harry. I just had no idea you were the whore of Hogwarts." It took every ounce of strength I had not to slap him across his face. He would've liked it too much.  
  
"Draco...Draco I reall-"  
  
"Save it, Potter. Save it for somebody who cares. Because right now, that person isn't me." 


	2. Two Times The Annoyance

As I stormed out of the classroom, I half expected him to come running after me. I'm not sure if I was upset or relived that he didn't. I managed to regain my composure before entering the common room, but the second my head hit my pillow, those silent tears started to fall. And that's how it's been for the past few hours. Me, pathetic, stupid, Draco Malfoy crying over a prat like Harry Potter. Yet, in some ways, I like it better when I'm alone. At least then I can think about how things were and now how things are becoming.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
I remember the look in his eyes after our very first tryst in the hallway. He was a bit confused, yes. But definitely not as scared as I had imagined. It was a show down of sorts, to see who would take the first step away. Both of us were still, beads of sweat kissing our brows.  
  
I was still pressed up against his chest, eyes of gray locked against those gorgeous emeralds of his. He was silent as could be, save his erratic breathing, which rolled like waves along my neck. A smirk tugged relentlessly at the corner of my mouth, and I couldn't help but break the silence with an exaggerated sigh. It was at that moment he took my hand out from underneath his robes and shoved me backwards.  
  
"And is that all the thanks I get, Potter? Just a shove in the opposite direction?" Arcing a slender brow, I took a step back toward him. "I'd have expected a bit more gratitude."  
  
"Bugger off, Malfoy..." His voice was quiet and unsure as he straightened his boxers and smoothed out his robe, finally taking his eyes off me.  
  
"Please don't try to pretend you didn't like it. I'd even dare say I did better than you yourself could've done." As I crossed my arms over my chest, I cocked my head to the side, the grin playing at my lips growing even larger. He stayed quiet and turned on his heal, heading down toward the end of the hallway.  
  
"Don't feel bad about liking it, Potter!" I yelled; my voice echoing between the deserted stonewalls. "Everybody does!" He turned to glare at me. It really was a striking look. Harsh green orbs, barely covered by the matted mop of black he had as hair, stared straight through me.   
  
His chest was heaving now, with passion or hatred, I never knew which. I don't think he knew just how handsome he looked there, but it was the first time I realized just what a sex toy he could be.  
  
"I'll never like anything you do, Malfoy!" He spat out, fists clenched at his sides.  
  
"Oh? Is that so?" With a shrug of my shoulders, I turned around and sauntered off in the other direction, leaving him standing alone at the end of the hallway.  
  
  
  
I didn't see him at breakfast the next morning, not that I was particularly looking for him, mind you. However, I seemed to be the only person who cared. That stupid mudblood and Ron were so enthralled with each other, I imagine a heard of Unicorns could've thundered through the Great Hall and they wouldn't have even bothered to look up. I just prayed they wouldn't breed, God knows we could use less of those types in the world.  
  
As much as he was trying to make himself sparse, there's no getting out of Potions' Class. I did my best not to look back at him, although nothing could stop be from uttering snide remarks every chance I got. I figured, by then, they'd have learned to ignore me, but that day I proved myself wrong. Once we had been set on our own to brew a simple enlarging potion, I took to opportunity to turn around to his table.  
  
"Get much sleep last night, Potter?" I whispered with a grin as I motioned to the two stupid lovebirds at the table beside him, "I imagine with those two going at it like rabbits in the bed next to you, it must be a bit hard."  
  
I'm not sure what exactly it was that happened or who it was that threw the first frog heart. I only remember looking up to see Professor Snape looming over Harry and I. Both of us were a tangled mess of robes, limbs, and a funny blue potion that smelled strongly of seaweed. I might've found it a bit more erotic had Snape not been staring straight at us. Breathing hard, I jumped to my feet, knocking Harry into a table, which spilled a small vial of dragon's blood.  
  
"Professor...I...surely you saw what happened! He attacked me! And with no good reas-"  
  
"Save it, Draco. Your potions may be slightly above average, but let me assure you that your acting skills leave much to be desired. Get up, Potter."  
  
The class around us was full of whispers, and I'm sure I heard a few stifled snickers from the back of the dungeon. Harry stood up next to me and we both stared up at Snape, awaiting the horrible sentence that was sure to come.  
  
"Naturally you two will stay after class to clean this mess up. You will not have a chance to make up this assignment; instead you will organize the jars, cauldrons, and vials that are currently piled up in the storage room. I'm sure it will be a most pleasant experience for the both of you." He turned away and walked back to the front of the classroom, his black robes billowing out behind him. A small sigh slipped out from between my lips; I was quite relieved I wasn't being forced to lick the dungeon floors clean. "Oh, and by the way-" he turned to face us, and my heart sank,"-Sixty points from Slytherin and Gryffindor. And rest assured Mr. Potter, that Professor McGonagall will hear of this."  
  
  
  
  
Harry looked absolutely crestfallen as we began the task at hand. Professor Snape had left for dinner, as had everybody else, and the silence between us was deafening. Cauldrons, bottles, vials, and jars of all shapes and sizes were pulled from the storage area and onto the floor around us. Soon enough, we both stood in a knee-high pile of all sorts of tools for potion making. I casually tossed a few buckets to the side and made my way over him. He was in the corner of the room, scrubbing a large purple stain off the stone floor.  
  
"You look pretty comfortable down there, Potter. Spend a lot of time on your knees?" I found myself kneeling next to him, staring intently at his features. A few strands of charcoal hung down over the rims of his glasses and his eyes were fixated on the purple spot in front of him, a little nub of tongue sticking out between pressed lips. He didn't' respond to my comment, which naturally caused me great irritation.  
  
"Don't answer me then. We both know the answer anyway."   
  
I knelt there for a bit more, looking at him and the spot he was scrubbing. I think we were both aware that his scrubbing wasn't doing any good. And as much as I was perfectly content to sit there staring at him, I had to put his stupidity to and end. With the slow roll of my eyes, I reached out and slapped his hands away.  
  
"If you insist on cleaning every damn spot in this place, at least do it the right way." I muttered and pulled my wand from my robes. Pointing it at the spot, I muttered a simple spell and the purple instantly vanished, revealing a perfectly smooth, gray stone slab. He didn't seem all that impressed as he raised his brows and looked up at me.  
  
"Snape said we weren't supposed to use magic to do the job." He turned away from me to reach other for a handful of small vials, which he placed on a shelf above us.  
  
"Since when did you start following rules, Potter? Just do as I do and we can get the fuck out of here. I don't imagine you're actually enjoying yourself." I stood and walked to the entryway of the storage room, and again raised my wand. "It's really quite easy...Mundum!" With a flick of my wand, row upon row of cauldrons stacked themselves neatly against the opposite wall.  
  
"Give it a go, Potter. I really don't have all day." The job didn't take long with both of us using the charm. Occasionally we'd have to duck out of the way of a flying bottle or jar, but it was relatively painless. I found a secret pleasure in watching him perform his spells. He spoke his spells loud, and clear, with assertiveness only a Quidditch player would have. I also found myself fixated on the little wrinkles that appeared on his forehead when he was concentrating.  
  
Momentarily, I was disgusted that he would put so much effort into something as stupid as detention, but then I realized it was just how Harry is. A passionate and upfront sort of man. I enjoy that in a person. Who am I kidding? I hate that in a person. But it's just...so different with him. Everything is different with Harry.  
  
With a sharp kick to the wooden panels of the storage room door, our detention was over. Both of us stayed mute as we walked to the door of the dungeon. As he opened the door, he slowly turned to look at me, those green eyes trailing lazily up my form. I'm not really positive if he meant to give me an once-over, but I did notice it, that's for sure.  
  
"Thanks..." He muttered his gratitude, running that velvety tongue of his across chapped lips, "...For the spell, I mean."   
  
I'm pretty sure he knew just what he was doing to me with that tongue of his, and I instantly felt t hat familiar twinge of heat welling up inside. At that moment, I wanted nothing, absolutely nothing more than to have that tongue running slowly down my neck. I shrugged and glanced away, hoping the flush I was feeling in my face wasn't apparent to him.  
  
"Don't mention it." I bit down hard on my lower lip, and tried desperately not to give in. In the end of course, there was nothing I could do. As he turned away from me to walk out, I immediately reached over and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back toward me. It was a harsh kiss, one of the most intense I had ever experienced. Up to that point, anyway. My hand tightened around his unusually slender wrist as I pressed myself against him. Naturally he was tense at first, who wouldn't be? But he melted into it, just as I knew he would. With a small whimper of protest from him, I tore my lips from his and trailed my tongue lightly along his jaw line to his ear.  
  
"Tonight, Potter. At the lake."   
  
After a sharp nip to his earlobe, I let his wrist fall to his side, and I quickly turned on my heel to walk out the door. I made it a point not to look back at him. It was in his hands now, really. It was a strange feeling, to leave the decision up to another. And yet, deep down, I knew what he would do. At least...I hoped I did.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Stupid Potter. Only he could make me feel this way. Of course, he's the only person that can do a lot of things...with a small sigh; I buried my head in my pillow and chewed contentedly on my bottom lip. It's a horrible habit, really, but it helps me think. Think about what on earth I am going to do with Harry.   
  
He's lying to me. We both know he is. Lying to me is very bad business and he should know. The relationship-if you can call it that-wasn't his idea, it was mine. Of course, now he thanks his lucky stars he ever met me. Reluctant at first, more than willing in the end. That's the way they always are with me. I think that makes him a little crazy.   
  
Yet, he makes me crazy. I'm supposed to be in control, I'm supposed to be in charge of him, but I'm not. Then again, I don't think either of us are in control now. We're connected by some strange twist of fate, as enemies...as lovers. He didn't tell me no when he had the chance, and now neither of us can do anything about it. I wasn't supposed to end up this way with him. Me, Draco Malfoy, actually falling for Harry fucking Potter. Who'd have thought? No one.   
  
Just another thing on the list of shit to never let anybody know. Especially not him.  
  
Everything has been spiraling out of our control for quite some time, now...but, it doesn't matter, we work together. My arrogance and ability to pretend we have a flawless relationship is matched only by his ability to make me honestly believe he enjoys being with me. Maybe that's what makes us so perfect together. Or maybe, that's what's going to tear us apart in the end. 


	3. Three O'Clock am Meetings

Cursing under my breath, I pulled my hand back toward my chest, wincing at the sight of the blood-laced wall. Stupid prick. Only Malfoy could make me feel this way. Which way that is, I'm not exactly sure. Upset, angry, depressed, annoyed, spiteful, vengeful and even...hurt. God forbid he ever find out about that. To let him know that he hurts me is to give a pyromaniac your best inflamare spell.  
  
No, it's definitely best that he knows nothing about the way I feel. That's just the way things are-the way things have to be. We meet each other for sex, that's all. Maybe the occasional conversation, but it would never go beyond a fuck and a talk. Never. Not that I would want it to, or anything like that...honest.  
  
So here I am. Famous Harry Potter, able to defeat any Quidditch team and Voldemort alike, but I can't even stand up to a petty Slytherin. He likes to say, more for the benefit of himself than for me, I'm sure, that he has a hold on me. As much as I hate to admit it, he's right. Sure, I can throw an insult or two his way when needed, but I can't squander the little voice in the back of my head that tells me to give in. The voice that tells me it's okay to let him have his way with me. The little voice that got me into all this trouble in the first place.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
I stood thunderstruck inside the dungeon, staring blankly as he casually let the door close behind him. Rough fingertips slowly ran across the length of my still warm lips as I let the situation really sink in. I knew he wanted me. I mean, after the situation in the hall it was only obvious. And, well, meeting him at the lake didn't seem like too bad of an idea. He was good, I can say that much. Not better than I could've done, as he stated, but close. And then again, most of the guys I had been with were "good." However, I did feel that with him...good could only become better. Perhaps that's why I didn't bother to push him away when I had the chance.   
  
Walking out of the dungeon, I wandered aimlessly through the hallways of the school debating what I should do. To give in to Malfoy would be a strange thing, but it would also be living out a fantasy that I must admit, crossed my mind readily more than once. Maybe I wanted him a little more than I thought. "A thin line between love and hate" and all that such. But, I think for me...it was a thin line between lust and hate. That must've been it. Why else would a late night meeting at the lake appeal to me so much?  
  
  
  
  
I don't know how long he was waiting for me on the outskirts of the forest, leaning casually against the trunk of a large tree, throwing pebbles into the lake nearby. He looked absolutely striking. I hated to admit it, but the usual strange white glow of his hair looked amazing in contrast to the darkness that surrounded us. I was sure to take my time walking over to him, still not entirely positive meeting him here was the right move. The wet dew already present on the grass soaked through my socks and the hem of my robes, sending a chill up my spine. I think it was the cold that made me shiver, anyway.  
  
"I figured you'd come, Potter. It's a rare thing when people don't." He didn't bother taking his eyes off the lake as he spoke.  
  
"You do this often then?" I arced a brow as frowned pulled on the corner of my lips, annoyed that what I said came out entirely too whiney. He gave an artful smirk and finally fixed those cold eyes of steel on mine.  
  
"Don't get jealous, now. Rest assured I won't be thinking of them when I finally get around to fucking with you." Draco rolled his eyes, but my sudden blanch at his caviler attitude to the whole thing obviously didn't go unnoticed by the blond one.   
  
"Well that is why you're here, isn't it? You didn't show up just to discuss the latest issue of The Daily Prophet, did you?" Of course, it goes without saying that he was right. I upturned my shoulders in a light shrug and took a few more steps closer to him, absentmindedly running a hand through my tangled mess of ebony hair. I wasn't exactly sure what I had anticipated happening, but I promise that I had no clue things were going to move along the way they did. Before I had a chance to open my mouth, his lips were on mine.  
  
I couldn't help but grin through the kiss, recalling a conversation I had had with a 6th year Hufflepuff once. Draco Malfoy is perfectly aware of what he wants and has no problems trying to get it. Of course, what he wants usually isn't a "what" but a "whom." He thinks he keeps his escapades quiet, but people talk. People always talk. I wondered just how hard he had tried for everybody else compared to how hard he was trying with me. I certainly wasn't throwing myself at him-which did take a lot of restraint- but I wasn't giving him much of a fight, either.  
  
Not realizing it, my hands had traveled up his sides and through silky strands of platinum. Somehow I knew what it would feel like to run my fingers through his hair. It's always the mean ones that are soft to the touch. As if on cue, my eyelids slowly closed and I tilted my head to the side, letting him slip that velvet tongue right past my lips. I retaliated, just barely gliding my tongue along the glistening surface of his lips, while pushing myself against him. His hands were all over me, strong and experienced. I blissfully sighed as he slipped those cool fingers up, under my shirt and along my chest, causing me shivers all over.  
  
I pulled away from him, long enough to catch a brief glance at his face. His cheeks were flushed and he was biting down hard on his lower lip. For a fleeting instant he reminded me of a little boy. As great as he may have been in bed, I'm sure he-just like myself-had no idea exactly what we were getting ourselves into by doing this. It didn't matter to me at the time, and as quickly as I had glanced up to him, I glanced away only to flutter small kisses up along his jawbone.   
  
Sucking at the tender spot behind his ear, I pulled my hands down to the clasps of his robe, trying inexpertly to unfasten the buttons and take it off. Like always, he was one step ahead of me, having already undone mine, he moved along to his and in no time our robes; as well as our shirts, were lying in a pile on the grass.  
  
The cool air hit me as suddenly as our first kiss, and I gasped, immediately wrapping my arms around my chest in a desperate attempt to gain some heat. I heard him give a small chuckle before he wrapped his arms around me again, and pulled me closer, inadvertently grinding our hips against each other. Heaven is the only word I can think of to describe it. Heaven.  
  
"Let's see if we can't do something about warming you up, hmmm?" He purred into my ear before grabbing my arms and pushing them down to my sides. Sure enough, the minute he started his wet descent down my chest, I forgot all about the frigid air around us. His tongue glided with ease around my nipples and along the length of my abdomen, causing low moans to slip out from between my barely parted lips. It was a surreal experience...To have the Draco Malfoy on his knees in front of me. I wasn't quite sure what to make of it all, but the thought was pushed from my mind as he undid my pants and pulled them down to my ankles.  
  
I arced a brow over the rim of my glasses, and stared down at him. He looked up at me with a glint in his eyes I had only seen once before, the day after he managed to get me, Ron, and Hermione all a detention in Snape's class. Everybody always knew he was mischievous, but I wondered just how many of them knew exactly what he really enjoyed doing with me. An unmistakable grin spread across his face as he tucked his fingertips underneath the hem of my boxers, threatening to pull them down. Slowly, I turned my head away from him and closed my eyes, taking in the full realization of what was about to happen.  
  
Draco's flings with other people had never crossed my mind before until that night. I wondered just how many people he had been with. You certainly don't get that good without a lot of practice.   
  
Honestly? Honestly, I had never ever felt anything quite like what it was that he was doing to me. Naturally, I'd had my fair share, but this...this just blew my mind. Pardon the pun. He was incredible. I could feel every inch of myself being taken over by a feeling of pure pleasure. Nothing but pleasure. Every lick...every suck was an experience to remember.   
  
I'm not sure how long it lasted, but it ended with a feeling so fierce, so intense, that I can only remember my strangled cry as my quivering knees finally gave out from under me, and I found myself on the grass beside him. My breath was ragged and forced, as I lay on the ground, finally finding the strength to open my eyes and look up at the man who had caused all of this. He was smiling, almost a grin of sorts, obviously pleased with himself, as he absentmindedly brushed a few strands of hair off my sweat drenched forehead.   
  
"Not so cold now, are you Potter?"   
  
Tracing cool fingertips down my side, he continued to stare straight at me. I didn't think it was a question that really required an answer, so I merely gave a muffled noise and swallowed hard before closing my eyes again, trying to figure out what I was going to do next. But of course, that time, and every time since, Draco had already figured it out for me.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Wrapping a thin bandage around my now bruised and bloodied hand, I finally left the empty room. I knew he wouldn't be back for me this late. Not that I had expected...or even wanted him to come back. Just another fight. He thinks I'm lying to him again. Well, maybe I am. But if he knows I am, then what's the point of getting mad about it? I guess that's just the way he is. Always wanting to keep his hands on things that "belong to him." Things like me. Maybe I wouldn't have to lie to him if he'd give it a rest. If he would treat me the way I'd like him to. The way he should.  
  
I never wanted things to be the way they are. He knows that. I thought he'd have his way and get over me...neither of us expected it to go on for as long as it did. I don't think either of us expected me to go along with it to begin with. To this day, I'm not sure why I did. It would've saved us both a lot of struggling for me to have just shoved him off. Of course I wanted him, I mean it is Draco Malfoy, but why let him have what he wants? Because it's what I wanted, too? Stupid reason. I could've stopped this all at any time, he knows, I know, I could've stopped all this shit in one instant, but I didn't. Now, though, it's much too late.   
  
Things have been out of my hands for a while now, out of both of our hands, in all actuality. It seems we can't really escape each other, even when I'm sure we'd be so much better off without each other. Even when our "relationship" (and I use the term loosely, as fucking each other senseless every few days and occasionally having a chat in the corner hardly constitutes as a relationship, and yet it's much more than merely being acquainted with somebody) seems like the worst possible thing in the world, that's when I try the hardest to convince myself it's the best. It seems insane we'd even continue this elaborate charade of "friends with benefits" and not just end it all in one clean swoop. But tell me, how can you turn your back on the person that you care about more than anybody else in the world? Even if he doesn't feel the same way about you.  
  
As I made my way into the Gryffindor common room, I passed Ron and Hermione, completely engrossed in each other in the corner. Of course I love my best friends, as anybody would, but they really do make me jealous. They'll never know, naturally, but it's the truth. I almost wish I could have a relationship like that. One not torn up by bitterness and jealousy, one not based solely around sex, one not hidden from virtually every person alive. Not that I would want a relationship like that with him...No, perfect relationships like Ron and Hermione's are for people who love each other. Not for people who live with unrequited love. Not for people like me. 


	4. Four Flush

Jealousy doesn't have to be a horrible thing. He makes it that way. He always acts like it's such a horrible thing to be jealous. What's wrong with wanting to keep what belongs to you to yourself? I think...I think he's confused. Yes, of course. He never was very keen, lucky as all, but not keen. I believe he's under the impression I'm keeping constant tabs on him because I'm selfish. Of course, he is right, but that's not the sole reason I do it. I do it because I know...because I know what he does behind my back. Because if I don't watch him like a hawk, I'm bound to lose him. As much as I pretend I don't care...well I don't think I have to say it. It's much too degrading.  
  
I've known for a while, naturally-when did anything ever go on at Hogwarts that I didn't know about? Only now it's time for him to stop. It's maddening that he feels he has to lie to me; it's crazy that he thinks I don't know. And it's insane that it hurts me so much.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
It really was quite the experience to remember. I honestly had no idea how things were going to turn out, I only knew it would be in his best interest to show up. Naturally he came...in more than one way. I had to laugh, I really did. Of course, I managed to stifle it to a light chuckle, but anybody would've laughed. There he was, Harry Potter...The Stupid Boy Who Lived, lying on the grass, stark naked save for the boxers around his ankles. Panting like a dog, with a dazed almost trance-like look on his face. Not so tough. Vampires have garlic, Werewolves have silver, and Harry Potter has oral.  
  
I could've had it all right there. Done it and been over with it...but I couldn't. I honestly, could not bring myself to do it. I swear to you, had it been anybody else I wouldn't have hesitated a moment. Not with him, no. He was worth more than that. Please don't get me wrong, I was going to get mine no matter, I knew it, he knew it, but I just didn't see the reason to make it absolutely horrible for him. There you go, see? He's lucky. Very lucky.  
  
Casually, I nudged him in the side, pushing him onto his stomach. I can't tell you how intoxicating it was to see him like that. Just...laying there, the pale moonlight grazing over ever inch of his flushed skin. And it was all there for me. Me. Mine. Nobody else. Chewing nonchalantly on my bottom lip, I leaned over to glide my hands down his back. He shivered under my touch, just like I knew he would. He was still breathing hard, and those rugged gasps of breath were the only sound between us as I ran dry lips over the smooth skin of his shoulders. I was shocked as he suddenly writhed beneath me, for a split second I thought he was going to get up. However, before I went blind with rage, I realized he was arcing his back to meet with my lips, slowly rolling one shoulder back...and then the other as I lightly licked and nipped his oh so supple skin.  
  
Perfect of course. How could it be anything else? Two people can really be made for one another. Made to fight, to hate, to lust, to love, to fit. And we did. We did it all. It was barely above a whisper, but I heard it. My name. Tumbled softly from between barely parted lips. And not Malfoy, but Draco. Draco...the way he said it, was so erotic, so full of pleasure and bliss, I could've died right there knowing the last thing I heard was him. It pushed me over the edge, and it was then I knew it wasn't a one-time thing. That it couldn't be a one-time thing. I'm not sure how long we were there. When my eyes finally fluttered open, the skies were a bit lighter than they had been and I could hear the faint chirping of birds somewhere in the distance. My arms were around his waist and we were both on our sides, his back to my stomach, with my head buried into the scruff of his neck. He smelled of grass and leather, uniquely Harry. It was incredibly hard to do, but I managed to pry myself away from him and stand up.  
  
"You really should get up."   
  
As I pulled on my second pant leg, I managed to kick him lightly in the small of his back. I picked up a heap of his clothes and threw them over his head, before grabbing my own cloak. He shook his head and raised himself up, leaning against his elbows while looking around. He seemed a bit confused until his eyes wandered over to me. Those emerald orbs lightened a shade and his cheeks flushed rosy pink as he suddenly scrambled to get himself covered up. I rolled my eyes, fumbling with the buttons on my cloak.  
  
"I never thought you'd be one to get embarrassed." Glancing down at him again, I shook my head, causing a few blonde strands to fall down in front of my eyes. "We really need to be going. If they found out we're both missing...God only knows how long it will take them to put two and two together. I really don't need that." He dressed himself in a hurry, as I nervously glanced this way and that, seriously expecting somebody to come running out from behind a bush at any moment.   
  
As he picked up his cloak, I turned and walked off, listening to the rustling of grass behind me as he struggled to catch up.  
  
"You've got grass in your hair." I said matter-of-factly before reaching up to pull a few blades out of his tangled strands of hair, which I promptly threw over my shoulder. "You're a bit dirty."  
  
"I could say the same thing about you...only I'm not sure if I'd be referring to cleanliness." He smirked a bit as we rounded a stone corner and came across a giant staircase. "I'll see you later then..." Trailing off, he took a step up onto the stairs.  
  
"Later is a bit obscure, don't you think?" I titled my head to the side, crossing my arms over my chest. "Of course you wouldn't hear a complaint from me if you decided to never talk to me again. Maybe I could get some piece of mind." We both knew he was the quieter of us two, but after seven years of constantly complaining about person-it's pretty hard to put a sudden halt to it. He seemed a bit taken aback and I could tell he was thinking about how to reply.  
  
"Tomorrow...outside the dungeons. After dinner." I knew making a date for the absolute next day made me look desperate, but I knew nothing would ever be the same with anybody else after Harry. Reluctantly, he nodded and then made his way up the stairs. I stood at the bottom, never taking my eyes off him as he walked on up. He really was a sight, dirty and wrinkled robes only added to the usual scruffiness of his hair. I knew I was in a similar state, but at that moment my cares didn't go beyond the person walking up those stairs. "See you tomorrow then...Harry."  
  
Stopping in his tracks, he arced an elegant brow and looked down at me. I couldn't quite read the expression on his face, but I did hear him give a mild laugh with the shake of his head as he walked on, muttering under his breath: "So that's what it takes to get on a first name basis..."  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
I can see him glancing at me from across the Great Hall. I wonder if he's aware that I can see him. To everybody else, including Seamus, he appears to be deeply involved in their conversation. But I know better. I know what he's thinking. The look in his eyes is pleading and I almost want to throw my plate across the room just so he'll stop. I shake my head and look away from him, turning to Pansy who's seated on my left. She's jabbering on about the usual stupid crap. For a second, I want to throw my plate at her instead of Harry. She was the only one who had suspicions about Harry and I. I suspect she overheard us outside of the common room at night. I wouldn't put sneaking around, spying on people past her. She didn't get put in Slytherin for nothing.  
  
She stops talking, and it's only then that I am aware that I've begun to stare at Harry again. She bangs her fist on the tabletop and screeches at me about not listening before jumping up and leaving the Hall. Oftentimes I wonder why it takes people so long to realize I'm not listening.  
  
But I believe I've acquired a talent for pretending to listen. It's what I do when Harry mumbles his stupid explanations to me. I'm not stupid by any means. And I'm certainly not gullible. I wonder why the boy even tries. I rest my chin in an upturned palm and look up at the ceiling of the Hall. It's an over-cast day outside and the owls that suddenly pour in through the windows look quite ruffled. Suddenly, I realize a letter has been dropped in front of me, and I jerk up, snapping out of my haze.  
  
Opening the letter, I glance around to be sure nobody else is looking. The handwriting on the letter is small, and scratchy. Instantly I know whom it's from. The boy never did learn how to write. It simply reads:  
  
  
I'm Sorry  
  
  
Of course he's sorry. Anybody would be. At least he's given up silly excuses. I let out a small sigh and shove the letter back into its envelope. Apologies just aren't good enough anymore. He's apologized over and over again. Honestly, a person can only take so much. We hadn't even been seeing each other for a month when it happened the first time.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
I had just come out of transfiguration and was really in no mood to be trifled with. So of course, that's when it happened. I was making my way down the charms corridor, hauling a large stack of books when I heard it. His laughter. For a fleeting instant it brought a smile to my face, until I realized it was coming from the old Charms classroom. I'm not quite sure how I knew, but after I set down my books and made my way to the door, I knew what I was going to find.  
  
Simply pushing the door open, I stood there in the doorframe, my hands placed securely on either hip. Harry immediately fell silent-nothing new-before quickly running the back of his hand across his lips, as if that could erase the remnants of the other boys' kiss. The other boy, I don't know who he was-but then again I don't think I was thinking straight at the time- he jumped up and ran out of the room, tripping over my books on the way. I smirked as he fell hard on the floor before I turned back to Harry. I had no idea what I was going to do, other than I knew I was going to hurt him. Slamming the door hard behind me, I walked straight toward him, backing him into the wall.  
  
"I didn't know you were so interested in extra curricular activities, Harry." I placed my hands on either side of his head, against the cool stone of the wall before pressing my chest hard against his. He winced and averted his gaze to the ceiling.  
  
"Talk to me! NOW!" Glaring, I pounded my fist against the stone, dangerously close to his head.   
"What kind of shit is this, huh? Well? What is it with you? Am I not enough? How many others, Harry? How many?!" My heart was pounding, and I could feel that his was doing the same.  
  
Finally, he drew his eyes toward mine. He wasn't defiant as I had expected, or ready to tell me off. He was...blank. He just gave me a blank stare. Gorgeous green oculars that usually held so much emotion were empty, and I had no idea what to do. I'd never seen him that way before.  
  
"He...he's the only one. I swear to you. I...I didn't even mean to do it. He just sprang it on me. I was surprised and...and I didn't do what I should have," His mouth was dry, and his words were forced and coarse. Paler by the minute, he kept his eyes focused on mine, as if trying to prove to me it wasn't a lie.   
  
"And what should you have done?" I really was dying to know. It was a loaded question. I'm sure he knew. Just to see what he thought of us. Were we nothing but play toys to each other? Admittedly, that was how I had viewed him for a while, but it was a phase if anything. Besides, this was his betrayal, not mine.  
  
"I should've...should've pushed him away. Told him no." He was staring right through me, in a way only Harry could do. I was glad to see a shimmer of fear cross his face, if only for a moment. Pressing myself harder against him, I heard a small crack I could only assume was his spine as he was pressed against the stones of the wall. He winced again as I pushed myself away from him.  
  
"I expect not to see or hear of anything like this again. You really should value what you've got while you've still got it."   
  
The message was cryptic, but not true. I had no intentions of ditching him because of a kiss. I could overlook a simple kiss...just a kiss. Just a kiss, I told myself as I made my way across the room. Turning back around to look at him, I saw him slide down the wall into a sitting position before pulling his knees to his chest.  
  
"Draco...I'm really sorry...really I am." He didn't look at me when he spoke; instead he closed his eyes, and tilted his head back, taking in a deep breath.  
  
"It-it's okay, Harry. I promise."   
  
Immediately I was angry I had stuttered. Showing a soft spot for Harry? He did look pretty pathetic there. And he did seem genuinely sorry at the time...(too bad I didn't know then what I know now) I couldn't look at him again, so I just walked out of the room and gathered my books. It was only when I got to the boys' bathrooms did I realize I had tears in the corner of my eyes.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Clutching the letter in my fist, I look up to see Harry staring past Seamus at me again. I lift the note to acknowledge I have gotten it. He seems a bit pleased for a second, mistaking my gesture for a sign of forgiveness. However the brief smile that graced his lips fell flat the second I hold the note over the candle that's sitting in front of me. I keep my eyes on him every second as the letter burns. Only when it turns into a pile of ashes do I stand from the table and walk out of the Great Hall.  
  
I haven't made it but ten feet toward the dungeons when I hear the frantic pace of footsteps behind me. I expect Pansy, but instead I turn to find Harry, his face red and his fists clutching at his robes.  
  
"I don't want to hear this right now." I stay firm. No more mistaking these ploys for honest sincerity and real apologies. I shake my head and turn away.  
  
"Why can't you just believe that I'm sorry?! I really am!" Immediately, I turn around and cup my hand over his mouth.  
  
"Keep it down, dammit! You're sorry are you? You really are?" My voice is quiet, but shrill as I mock him. "Well, meet me in our usual spot tonight and we'll see just how sorry you can get." Taking my hand off his mouth, I shove him backwards and again made an effort to walk to my common room. I hear him start to step forward, but I just kept walking.  
  
"Follow me and die." The footsteps stop and I round a corner on my way to the dungeon. I'm not sure exactly what is going to transpire tonight, but I do know that if he's not sorry now, he certainly will be by the time I am done with him. 


	5. Five Times Too Many

Why does he even care? He's getting what he wants from me regardless, isn't he? I'm still serving my purpose for him. I don't know how often I've tried to understand him. To understand what it is that drives him and makes him act the way he does. I used to know. I used be quite clear on his feelings, as was everybody in school. His feelings were blind hate and malice, contempt toward me, famous me. I think we understood each other better when we were enemies.   
  
Things are so much different when people become lovers, I guess. I mean that's what you'd call it, right? Being lovers. Even if love has nothing to do with it.  
  
Somehow...somehow his hate -no, our hate- became more than just abhorrence. Hating takes time, effort, and deep passion. I suppose somewhere along the line that passion became lust. Only, my lust grew to a love and attachment that I had never felt before...and his turned to jealousy. A blind rage that mars everything we ever could've had. He has no reason. No reason at all. If he was jealous because he cared, then I would understand. But he's jealous because he's selfish, and a bit mad, I'd say. Always keeping claims on what is "his." Never bothering to ask what "his" wants.   
  
Even if he knew what I wanted, it wouldn't make a difference. What I want is something he can't give. Something that is far beyond the reach of a Malfoy. Something I'm sure, and almost hope, he'll never experience. Something that goes beyond talking, touching, kissing, and fucking.   
  
Before Draco, I managed to find brief flings here and there, well everywhere I guess, all over the school. Nothing ever lasted longer than a night. I enjoyed things that way. But after him...I knew I would never have that freedom again. He had taken a hold on me, in a way I had never expected. Before him, I would look for fun, a randy good time, nothing more than a way to ebb my cravings and get on with the next day. He was the first person who showed a reckless abandon when it came to me. He wanted me in a way I had never seen before, and unfortunately for me, I took his want and lust for my body and the rights to say he "had Harry Potter" for a want and lust for me, as a person.  
  
After him, I needed something else. I needed him, in a sick way I still can't even fathom. Yet, as I ached for his touch, I yearned for more. More than he is capable of giving. Affection. The one thing he couldn't, and still can't, find in himself to give me. I suppose that's why I wandered off to find it from somebody else.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Everybody knew Justin Finch-Fletchley had an obsession with me. I don't think anybody thought it went beyond anything but a bad case of hero worship. I also don't think they ever knew how wrong they were.  
  
He had simply asked me to help him with a small problem he was having doing his homework from Professor Sprout's class. I should've wondered why on earth he didn't just ask Hermione, but I suppose I have a habit of failing to notice the obvious. We had decided to meet under a tree, not too far off from Hagrid's hut, on the outskirts of the school grounds. The wind whipped at our hair as we sat under the cool shade of the tree, and we got straight to business. I won't say I was uncomfortable around Justin, but I always felt strange. I was used to people knowing my name, but revering me was a completely different feeling.  
  
We were standing up, getting ready to head back to the castle when he laid it on me. It was so sudden; I'm not sure how I quite recovered quick enough to rest my open palm against the trunk of the tree to keep myself from falling over. Immediately, he started stammering apologies. I was taken aback by his nervousness. The way he was worried about what I was going to do. The opposite of the way I usually felt.  
  
"Justin, no, stop. It's okay...you just surprised me is all."   
  
I took a step away from the tree and moved toward him, laying my hand lightly on his shoulder. He feigned a small smile and glanced up at me, nodding slightly. I noticed his eyes...they had a warmth so shocking, I almost wanted to collapse into his arms right there. His eyes were light and soft, they were friendly and he looked at me as a person. A person.  
  
"I-I-I just...well I didn't mean...I"- Placing my other hand on the opposite shoulder, I gave him a light shake and shook my head, before lightly returning the kiss. It had been a while since I had felt this way. The kiss was void of the usual hot, burning desire that flooded through my veins. But what it lacked in intensity, it made up in tenderness. A feeling I hadn't bothered to think about in a long time. On top of that, it was something I wasn't entirely powerless against.  
  
He was blushing quite furiously as we made our way back to the school. He was muttering inaudible sentences the whole while up there, and it remained an unspoken agreement that we wouldn't mention the incident to anybody. Neither of us had made plans for it to happen, and we didn't make plans for it to happen again, I particularly decided this was for the best. As I made my way back into the common room I was already feeling guilty about it. I think this was the first time I realized just how in over my head I was. That a mere kiss of another would be poison to what I had with Draco. As much as I was trying to fight it, I needed it, and I decided then and there, it would be the last kiss I shared with anybody else.  
  
If only. Justin and I met again, and again. Never beyond kissing and cuddling, mind you, but it was disastrous nonetheless. The day Draco caught us...I thought for sure that was the end of it.  
  
I tell you, the pain he caused me that day, not just the physical, but the emotional feelings that went through me were enough to last a person a single lifetime. A single glance from him can do more to me than most people can do with their wands. I got plenty of it that time. He yelled at, glared at, pushed, and hurt me, all at the same time. He had meant to stop me, but he only drove me further.   
  
I only met with Justin once more; I didn't want to think about what Draco would do to him if he ever found out exactly who he was. But there were others. Many others. Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and admittedly Gryffindor. But of course, there would only ever be one Slytherin. I was careless. Careless and stupid. Nothing gets passed Draco. As much as I hate it, he really is aware of everything that takes place in the school. He knew. And he gets so mad...so blind with fury. Hell hath no fury like a Malfoy scorned.  
  
Apologizing never did as much as I had hoped. Of course, it worked to begin with. But after ten or twelve times, he started to realize I wasn't honest. I'm sure he had realized before then, God only knows why it took him so long to finally lose it. He would yell at me, hit me, and take me. It was just the way it was. Each time worse than the last. And every time he did, every single time, I became more determined not to mess up again. And at the same time, I craved more affection. I wanted somebody; I needed somebody, to hold me. To kiss my bruises and heal my wounds. To caress my soiled skin and lick the blood from my lips.  
  
It only ever went beyond kisses once. One time. In all honesty, it wasn't that great, but it was different. After we were through, he held me, and kissed the back of my neck. He rubbed my shoulders and whispered softly in my ear, gently laughing with his light Irish accent. He made me happy, made me feel it was right. In a way Draco had only done once before, during our first time. I guess after that, all formalities were off. I had been deemed property of his and he didn't have to make it nice for me. He just made sure it was nice for him.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
I really am sorry. I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. My gift for eloquence only goes so far. It convinced him for a while, at least. Until it became obvious I was lying. The kisses he could forgive with the right persuasion, but this...I had gone much too far for him. I had really overstepped my boundaries this time. If only he knew he was the cause of it all. The cause of it everything: hate, anger, love, lust, suffering, insanity, desires, wants, and needs.   
  
The center of my fucking universe.  
  
I'm not sure exactly what he's planning for tonight, I can only rest assured it's not going to be anything I'm going to want to experience again. I absentmindedly rub my fingers across the raw skin of my still-sore knuckles as I walk down the cold, stone corridors. When I round the corner on my way to the dungeon, he's already there. He'd never seem the type, but he's quite punctual.  
  
He'd be the type to open the door for you and pull out a chair for you, that is, after he beat the living crap out of you in the parking lot.  
  
He stays silent but I know he sees me. Those cold, steel orbs of his give a small flicker as I come into his view. He's always happy to see me. Happy because he's finally going to be able to let me know exactly how he's feeling, even if it's not in words. Giving a small nod, he turns around and walks swiftly down the hall. I know to follow him, and I do...like a stupid dog on a leash. Before I know it, we're in an empty room that I've never seen before. I only know we must be quite far from where we began, as I can see the lake in the distance out of one of the broken windows that lines the empty walls.  
  
Walking to one of the windows, he crosses his arms in front of him and stairs straight out. I don't have to see his face to know he's chewing his bottom lip. The pale moonlight pours in through the windows, just giving enough light for me to make out his form from across the room. I lean back against the wall, by the door. We both know there's no way I'd run away, but it's nice to put up a charade once in a while. After what seems like an eternity of blatant silence, he turns to face me. He mutters a simple incantation, and the door beside me locks itself as he takes slow steps toward me.  
  
"Still as sorry as you were?" He arcs his brow with the light tilt of his head as he continues to walk toward me...Each step, echoing through the empty classroom. I swallow hard, and turn away from him, giving the lightest of nods. His footsteps are torture, slow and steady. He laughs, a shrill and vindictive laugh before he continues to vent. Each sentence louder than the last.  
  
"Oh I'm soooooooo sorry, Draco! So sorry I'm such a slut, that I can't keep my hands to myself for more than a minute! So sorry that I do it over and over again just because I'm an easy lay. So sorry I don't care about anybody but myself!"   
  
His voice is high as he mocks me, and I can hear his breathing as he finally gets close enough to touch me. His fingers, cold from the night air, but strangely soft as always, wind themselves down my cheek and along my jawbone. Before I have a chance to move, he reels back and slaps me hard across the face. The force knocks my glasses off and I can hear them clatter against the stone of the floor before sliding away. If I hadn't been so used to it, I probably would've cried out in pain, but I stayed silent, keeping my eyes squeezed shut.  
  
"You know...you never know what you've got until it's gone. Maybe if I left right now, then you'd really be sorry?"   
  
"No!" I shout before even thinking.   
  
That's it, Harry, just give him the ammunition he needs. But it's true, we're connected in such a way that if he left...if he stopped being with me, I don't know how I'd go on. Sometimes I wonder how I managed before we met. He immediately smirks, and glides a hand back through his ruffled mass of golden locks, his gaze running slowly up and down my body in a way I can only describe as perverted.   
  
"That's what I thought. I guess you're not as dumb as we all imagined." He gives a light shrug as his eyes meet mine. I just want it over. He always draws it out. I still don't know what he gets from all this, I just know I must be pretty good at giving it. Shaking his head, he steps closer to me and I find we're inches apart. He opens his mouth, for what's sure to be another jab at my already abused emotions. But before he has a chance to tell me how horrible I am, I get him to shut up in the only way I know how.  
  
I'm on him liked a crazed animal. My lips press hard against his as my arms slip up and around his shoulders, pulling him into me. The kiss is sloppy as I grind my hips into his, just begging for him to take me. Offering myself in a way I just know will force him to do it. I feel the warmth of his palms, wedging their way between us as he slides his hands up to my chest. I let out a small sigh of relief; however, it's a bit too premature as his palms press hard against me.  
  
I cry out in mild pain and shock, pulling my lips back from his. He's staring right through me, his eyes full of a fire I've never seen before. His fists grip my cloak and he pulls me toward him before slamming me back against the stones of the wall.  
  
"You can't do that! That isn't how it works!" I hear the fabric of my clothing tear as I'm shoved against the wall again, a sob welling in the back of my throat. I stare up at him, confused, hurt, and absolutely terrified. He pushes himself against me, and I wonder if he sees the fear in my eyes. But I know...he sees. He sees and he doesn't care.  
  
"You can't do whatever you damn well please, you know. You can't have everything you want. You can't!" His face is dangerously close to mine and I feel his breath on my skin, sending chills up my spine. I shut my eyes again, and hang my head, at a loss for words or actions. I can feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he keeps me pinned against the wall.   
  
"It's not right! It's not fair!"   
  
With each shout, I'm pressed harder against the wall. I can feel every point of every stone pushing into the flesh of my back. Whimpering, I open my eyes; I've got half the mind to cry right there and beg him to stop. But the look in his eyes stops me. The fury is gone, he's still enraged, there's no doubt about that, only...if I didn't know better, I'd say there was a glimmer of pain there. However, in a fleeting instant it's gone, replaced by the ridged glare I've seen one too many times. I open my mouth to stammer an apology, to beg for reconciliation.  
  
But before I have a chance, I find myself being flung to the floor.  
  
As I'm shoved aside like a dirty rag, he turns his back to me. He's hunched over, and by squinting, I can barely make out that his face is in his palms. The sudden urge to comfort him rushes over me, and I try to get to my feet. I must not be as quiet as I think, because the second I start to get up, he knows.  
  
"Come one step closer to me, Potter, and so help me, you'll regret it."   
  
It isn't the threat that keeps me quiet...it's the name. The name I hadn't heard spoken from those gorgeous lips in nearly seven months. It's not until the shock of it subsides, that I'm able to grab my cracked glasses from the floor and slip them on. Only then do I realize that I'm alone. Alone, and let off entirely too easy. 


	6. Deep 6

I won't do this anymore. I can't do this anymore. No, it's better if I just keep walking and never look back. But then that's it. It's over for good, and then what? Then...nothing. There can never be another one like him. Nobody even close. I don't have to try and find them to know they don't exist. But what other choice is there? To stay with him? Me, Draco Malfoy, stay and put up with all of stupid Harry Potter's games? Never. I am in control of my emotions, not him...really. Better to get out of it now than to let the truth slip out.   
  
What would he say? What would anybody say if they knew? If they knew the way I felt. If they knew that every time I hit him, my heart stopped beating. If they knew that every time his cheeks were red from the slap of my hand, I wanted to kiss him until it felt better. If they knew I feel like crying every time he sheds even a single tear? What would they say if they knew I only did it so I wouldn't lose him? That I only hurt him...because he hurts me.   
  
There must be some kind of a genetic defect. There's no a way a Malfoy should ever feel this way about a Potter. Then again I think, maybe Harry is the exception. After all, he's always an exception, isn't he? Thank Heavens for that, I'd sure hate to see him have to work for something in life. Say like, trying to work to preserve our relationship.  
  
As I walk along the deserted corridors of the school, I'm honestly not quite sure where I'm headed. Away. Away from him. I shove my hands into the pockets of my cloak, and let out a sigh as I shiver. I guess I've never realized how cold it is by the dungeons. Or maybe it's not cold; maybe I'm just empty inside. Because I just walked away from the most important thing in my life. I guess I shouldn't kick myself about it too much; I did leave before I let myself get carried away. But I wonder if he noticed...my frozen fingertips brush lightly against the tear streaks that now stain my cheeks.  
  
Before long, I find myself out by the lake. Let them catch me, let them give me detention. I don't have anything better to do with my time, anyway. Taking in a deep breath, I lean against a large tree and close my eyes, tilting my head back. I can feel the dew from the grass seaping in through my sneakers, but I don't care. The chill in the air is biting, and I'm loosing feeling in my fingertips. I let myself slide slowly down the tree trunk, before pulling my knees to my chest as I sit in the wet grass. Perching my chin up on top of my knees, I stare out over the lake. It's only then that I notice where I am. Back where it all began. The only time things were how they should've been. I held him that night, and things were right. They were perfect.  
  
What happened to that perfection we had? What happened to the affection and adoration I felt that morning when I found him in my arms?  
  
Who knew what that night would start? I bet if either of us had the faintest clue, we wouldn't have bothered. I wonder what his intentions were when he started fucking up. I'm sure he thought he was so slick, keeping it hidden from me. But after that first slip up, I became like a hawk. Swooping in on him randomly just to make sure he was alone...not necessarily alone, just not "with" anybody. It wasn't until it was a weekly occurrence that something had to be done. I became so fed up, and he became scared. Going out of his way to hide everything, to pretend everything was fine. I wasn't ready to leave him, no, not really. It wasn't until I found out that he...had actually given himself to somebody else. The straw that broke the Hippogriff's back. That couldn't be made up for. He couldn't just strut over and let me have him in a sorrowful-yet useful-attempt to win my forgiveness. I'm a Malfoy. Malfoys don't take other people's leftovers.  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
Pansy was smirking as she sauntered up beside me, outside of the dungeons. I had been leaning against the wall outside of Professor Snape's room for quite some time, waiting for him. He was late, but punctuality was never really his thing, so the thought that something might've been going on...well, it never really crossed my mind.  
  
"You're waiting for him, aren't you?" She was pulling the scarf off from around her neck as she leaned against the wall beside me, still grinning from ear to ear. I arced a brow and turned to look at her, absentmindedly brushing some hair away from my eyes. She wasn't looking at me. Instead her pitch-black eyes were set fixatedly on the wall across the hallway.  
  
"Why does it matter to you? Don't you have other people to be annoying right now?" Drawing a hand slowly to her chest, she feigned astonishment as she turned to look at me.  
  
"Me? Annoy anybody? Never! Besides...I only came here to share with you some rather interesting information." She ran her tongue across her lips as she finished her sentence, as if whatever was so important was just lingering there, waiting to come out.  
  
"Out with it then, Pansy! He'll be here any minute, damn it." I pushed myself away from the wall so I could stand in front of her. Crossing my arms over my chest, I stood there as she took her sweet time, glancing first at the ceiling, then at the floor, and then to either side of us. She leaned in closer, her voice just above a whisper.  
  
"He's not coming." It was blunt, and not nearly as dramatic as I had anticipated. Especially since I was sure the stupid girl had no idea what she was talking about. But I was wrong, as she wasn't entirely done delivering the message. "Well, he is coming, only not here, and...not with you."  
  
It didn't take more than a second for me to get what she was saying. That must've had the effect she was looking for, because as soon as I took a stunned step back, she burst into a fit of wild giggles. To say I was mad would be the understatement of the year. I was furious. I put both of my hands on either of her shoulders and gave her a light shake, looking directly into her eyes.  
  
"You're sure? You're absolutely positive? Don't fuck with me, Pansy." I was speaking in a hurried tone, anxious to find somebody to help me, let out my anger per say.   
  
She stopped laughing only long enough to nod, as she stared straight back at me. She mouthed the word "positive" before stifling another laugh. I almost wondered how she ended up become more insensitive than me, but I didn't have the time to worry about things like that. She wriggled her shoulders and pushed me away, before moving away to walk down the hall.  
  
"I told you, Draco! I told you that you couldn't trust the little git!" As her scarf dragged on the stone floor behind her, she went to round the corner.  
  
"Where, Pansy?! Where is he?!" Cupping my hands around my mouth, I yelled at her from the opposite end of the corridor. She turned around to look at me, her smirk still obviously tugging relentlessly at the corner of her lips. I could tell she was trying to hide it, albeit not every well.  
  
"Oh, they're in the Gryffindor tower! I only managed to realize who was groping whom before they went behind the picture of that really ugly lady!" She gave a shrug, and another muffled snicker before she walked out of my sight. Out of my sight, but not out of my range of hearing, and I can assure you she had a good laugh for another few minutes.  
  
I wasn't sure exactly what to do next. I just knew this time, if this were true, nothing could make up for it. No apology, no amount of tears, no act of "forgive-me" sex was going to fix it.   
  
I held somewhere in the back of my head that Pansy was wrong, that she was lying. That, regardless of his past history of being a fuck, that he really didn't betray me completely. I kept telling myself this over and over again as I made my way toward Gryffindor tower, stopping outside one of the tapestries that lined the walls.  
  
Seamus, an Irish Gryffindor boy I recognized came down the hall a few minutes later, gazing at me quite quizzically as he walked by. I imagine he was wondering what it was I thought I was doing lurking around so close to his common room, but he didn't dare ask. Smart move. Harry was a few moments later. Cursing under his breath as he came hurtling down the hall, throwing his robes on in the process. He was in such a rush, he went right past me without even noticing.  
  
"Late?" I didn't bother to look at him. Instead, I stared intently at a picture of five young girls who were laughing and dancing in the portrait across from me. I heard him stumble and stop running, before dashing back over toward me, only stopping when he was right in front of me, blocking my view of the picture. He swallowed hard, from nerves or from running, I wasn't sure which.  
  
"Draco...I...damn it, I'm really sorry." He was panting, still straightening his robes as he looked up at me. Those stupid green eyes bearing right into me. My arms remained crossed across my chest, and I stayed silent. Pushing myself away from the wall, I straightened up, managing to actually look down on him.  
  
He glanced around nervously and I noticed the marks on the pale flesh of his neck. Marks that didn't come from me...  
  
"What the fuck are you playing at, Harry?"   
  
I was glaring at him, daring him to lie to me. Daring him to make me believe it.  
  
"I don't know what you're talking about." He wasn't nearly as convincing an actor as I'm sure he had hoped. Finally, something he couldn't do naturally. His eyes found their way back to me, and I could see he was blushing, blushing and trembling. I turned on my heal and walked off toward the empty Arithmetic classroom. Naturally, he followed me, shutting the door behind him as he came in.  
  
"I know what you were doing." I sat myself on a desk, letting my legs sway back and forth slowly over the edge of the wooden desktop. "It doesn't take a genius to figure it out." I spoke quietly and slowly, trying not to let my anger show.  
  
"Then you know that I wasn't doing anything for you to get angry about! You...you know that Seamus and I were just studying. And nothing else! Nothing else! And you can't possibly prove that we were! We were just helping each other with homework and things. Can't I even have friends who help me with homework?"   
  
He was tugging at the buttons of his cloak, occasionally glancing up at me, trying to read my expression. Then, his face suddenly fell blank and he turned a deep crimson before falling backwards into a chair. I think we both realized at the same time that he had brought up Seamus before I had even brought him into the equation. He lowered his head and mumbled to himself.  
  
"I see then. Doing homework. Is that what you call it now? Well then, next time you want help with your homework, don't ask me!" I jumped off my desk, knocking it over in the process. Stomping over to him, I banged my palm hard on top of the desk next to him, trying to get him to look up at me. His eyes stayed fixated on the floor, and I could see that for once, they were void of tears. Pity for him that only made me even more irate.  
  
"You don't honestly expect me to believe that do you?" I stared at him, absolutely stunned. Stunned, and insulted I might add. To think I'd believe such a cock-and-bull story was absurd to say the absolute least.  
  
"...It's the truth. It's the God honest truth. Why would I lie to you?" His lips were dry and his eyes never left the floor. Good. I certainly didn't want to look at them.  
  
"I don't know. Why don't you tell me? You're the one with all the secrets, all the answers!" My palm slapped against the desk again.  
  
He stayed silent, his glasses sliding slowly down the bridge of his nose.  
  
"That's what I thought. I knew you were a whore, Harry. I just had no idea you were the whore of Hogwarts." It took every ounce of strength I had not to slap him across his face. He would've liked it too much.  
  
"Draco...Draco I reall-"  
  
"Save it, Potter. Save it for somebody who cares. Because right now, that person isn't me."  
  
  
* * *  
  
  
I'm shivering uncontrollably as I walk back to the school. My fists are clenched tight in my pockets and I continue to think back to that night. I want to blame it all on him, to say that one night ruined everything. But in truth...things were unraveling before then. We both knew. It was only a matter of time. I guess I just didn't expect that time to come so soon.  
  
  
  
  
I'm skipping breakfast today. Not only am I not hungry, I really have no desire to face him right now. He should be thankful for that, at least. I suppose if given the chance, things could take a nasty turn for the worse. I could've made him really feel it last night, but instead I freaked out, and now here I am. Actually hiding from the stupid prat. No, not hiding from...just avoiding. For my sake.  
  
What I really need right now is a good drink. To get my mind off of him, off of us. I decide to wait outside the Great Hall for a drinking partner to emerge. As I linger outside the big oak doors, the anger starts to well again. I chew ferociously on my bottom lip as I think about him.  
  
On the other side of those doors, probably thrilled to death I didn't slaughter him right there last night. And here I am, in an intense perpetual cycle of viciousness. I want to hurt him in any way, to make him sorry for hurting me. And yet, sometimes I wonder which is worse; the way I feel when he hurts me, or the way I feel after I've hurt him. One comes with the other, I imagine.   
  
I'm the victim, not him. Not him, but me. It's about me. And I have to make him see...see and understand how it is. He may not love me or care in the same way, but I know he does in fact care about what I do. Everything I do affects him, so he has to care, even if he doesn't want to. He thinks I'll always be here, always be around to fuck with. But he's wrong. Very wrong. And he's about to find out.  
  
The second those great wooden doors open, I'm on the alert. Keeping an eye out not only for stupid Potter, but for another, also. I find them both at the same time. I would laugh out loud at my luck, only I'm almost sure that if I were to open my mouth I'd break down right there.  
  
He sees me and freezes in his tracks, craning his neck to get a look at me through the bustling mass of students. I walk straight toward him, stone-faced, and I'm sure he thinks I'm coming for him.  
Right when I'm nearly to him, I make a dart to the right and reach out to grab Pansy by the arm, pulling her toward me. Before Harry, or she has a second to comprehend it, my lips are on hers.   
  
My hands grip her shoulders, keeping her in front of me, not that I would've needed to use force. I can tell already she's really lapping this up. It's no secret what a floozy she is. In an instant, her arms are around my neck, pulling me closer as her lips part ever so slightly. I can hear the gasps and giggles around us, but it doesn't matter. I'm not interested in what they think.   
  
I don't know how long we've been standing here like this, but already I'm anxious again, and I pull back, looking down at her confused face with a light smile. I tear my gaze from hers, and let my hands fall from her shoulders as I turn my head to look at him, easily spotted in the now thinned out crowed. He's staring at me, his mouth hanging open, his books at his feet. Emerald orbs are wide with shock, and his brow is furrowed as he stammers. Moving away from Pansy, I walk over toward him and pick up his books, shoving them into his chest. He manages to look away from me as he scrambles to hold onto his Herbology text.  
  
"So, how does it feel?" I hiss and take a step back from him.  
  
I'm not sure exactly what feels worse at the moment, the hard slap of Pansy's hand smacking me across the face, or the twinge of guilt I feel as I spot a single tear sliding down his cheek. 


	7. Turn At Seven

After knowing somebody for so long, you start to gain the ability to know their thoughts, and predict their actions. But let me tell you, out of all the things he could've done, that was the last thing I ever would've imagined. I get the impression Pansy feels the same.  
  
I can feel him standing in front of me, I can hear Pansy swearing, but I'm not all quite there.   
  
My heart is heavy and I feel as if I've fallen off the Astronomy Tower. I'm trying to speak, but there are no words to express it. My gaze is focused on my feet, and the frayed shoelace I can see poking out from under my robe. I can barely see him out of the corner of my eyes, but I notice that his smirk falters the instant I feel a tear start to slide down my cheek. I become aware of the few bystanders that are left and the weight of their eyes upon me. It's then that I shake my head, and casually brush the tear aside, using all my strength to keep the rest from coming.  
  
Finally, I regain my composure and I manage to get a firm hold on all of my books. I can't bring myself to look him in the eyes so I simply turn around and walk up the stairs, desperately hoping nobody wants to talk to me. For once, luck is on my side and I have an easy walk toward the library. Finding a table in the back, I place my books down and flop halfheartedly into a chair.  
  
There's no way I'll get any homework done now. No way in Hell.  
  
Absentmindedly, I unroll a sheet of parchment in front of me, before letting it snap back into its' previously curled form. My eyes aren't focusing on anything in particular as I stare into space, my chin resting on top of my pile of books. As of now, I can only feel one thing: hurt.  
  
The way he was able to just so carelessly kiss another person is mind boggling to me. I know Pansy was just as shocked as I was...but it's so obvious to everybody the way she fancies him, I bet it was a dream come true. And it wasn't just a small peck on the lips, either. He's so unabashed I can't stand it. He did it to bother me, and it's working. Damn him, it's working.  
  
He asked me how it felt. Yeah, as if you can put a feeling like that into words. As if he would ever know what it's like to see the person you love put their lips on another's. He thinks he's getting his revenge. He's trying to teach me a lesson. Let me see what it's like. How would he know? Even when I was with somebody else behind his back, it wasn't like this. I wasn't hurting him, if anything I was hurting the other people I was with. But he felt nothing but jealousy.   
  
He was jealous because I'm supposed to be his alone. But me, I'm not jealous. I'm shocked, stunned, angry, and hurt. And I feel this way because of the way I feel about him. Not because I'm jealous and I feel he should devote himself entirely to me (But God, if he would...) I feel this way because I care. I care about the fucking bastard and he's using that against me. He's bothered because he's selfish, and I'm hurt because I care.  
  
I can't let him know it's getting to me. I'm not going to let him know it's getting to me. Yeah, as if the crying didn't give it away...but I can still try to hold on and try to pretend.   
  
I've been pretending so long, why stop now, right? He wants me to see what it's like for him, to feel what he thinks is genuine anguish. I want him to see what it's like for me. And maybe I can't make him know what unrequited love feels like, and maybe I can't explain to him what it's like to feel like nothing more than an object. You can't explain to somebody what it's like when absolutely nobody cares. But at least I can try.  
  
This is the only time I've ever been ballsy enough, been angry and hurt enough to go against him.  
  
I just can't continue with the way things are. He might be fine with us, but I'm not. I have to try something...try anything to salvage what we have. I have to. If I don't, then what does that leave me with? The same way it's been? Sneaking around trying to seek out a person who cares, while letting myself get abused by the person I do love? That's not life...that's existence. I don't want to exist. I want to live.   
  
  
  
  
It's no secret how much I hate Potions, but today I've decided it's going to be the best class of the day. Snape is in a particularly foul mood, and immediately he puts us in groups to begin a sleeping potion. I know this one nearly by heart, so it's not very difficult for me to work on it, and continually sneak glances in Draco's direction. The look on his face isn't as smug as I'd imagine. In fact, he looks as if he's having the same sort of day Snape is.   
  
I try to convince myself it doesn't matter. That the constant look of contemplation on his face is nothing. That his feelings are nothing. Of course, I'm lying to myself, but what can I do about that?   
  
My thoughts are all over the place as I measure thimbles full of powdered horse bone and vials full of zebra bile. He hasn't looked at me all class. Ignoring me, I suppose. Or is he?   
  
Ignoring people isn't really a Malfoy trait. I'm sure if he was that upset, he'd have knocked me out with his cauldron already. What is it then? What's on his mind? I long to be able to ask him. To have the freedom to actually talk to him, to find out what he's thinking, not where he wants to meet for a fuck. Then, I decide he looks guilty, and I become nervous. He's done all sorts of things without being guilty, what sort of a horrendous act could make him feel that emotion? I bet it's a new one for him, that's why he looks nearly ill.  
  
Pushing it out of my mind, I turn back to my simmering cauldron. If he's planned something terrible for me, I'll just await it in silence. I'm sure it's nothing I can't handle. Besides, I refuse to let it get to me. I refuse to let my emotions grip me and throw me around again. If I'm going to be gripped and thrown around, I might as well let him do it.   
  
Surprising as it may be, I find myself free of trouble, and Potions class ends without event. I'm no longer suspicious of him, and instead I wonder if it's wise to start a conflict with him in such a state of mind. But then I remember that I have to think like him. If I want to show him how it feels to truthfully feel like he's nothing, then I better not start by going out of my way to be nice. I just remind myself it's for the sake of the relationship. For the sake of my sanity, it has to be done-not that it makes it any easier.  
  
The bell rings and it's a mad dash to the door of the dungeon. People are scurrying out in a flurry of parchment, quills, and a low hanging silver mist that has been present ever since Neville started his potion. Draco is one of the few in the back of the pack, obviously not in any hurry to run off and kiss anybody else. I decide to hang back as well, and I manage to make us the last two out of class. As the rest of the group hurries up the stairs, I slip up behind him and tap him on the shoulder. He wheels around and looks at bit surprised to see me standing before him. However, his surprise turns to mild amusement as he grins and crosses his arms over his chest, giving me a once over with those startling gray orbs.  
  
"What is it now, Potter? Have you come to apologize again for being such a slut?" His eyes narrow, and it's remarkable how evil he can look in the blink of an eye. Drop dead gorgeous, of course. But an evil gorgeous, if there is such a thing. His face is inches away from mine and he's speaking in a hushed, husky voice. "Or are you here to get on your knees and beg me to take you right now? Because we both know that's what you want...just admit it."  
  
Immediately, I wonder where he's acquired the ability to make me want to agree to everything he says. I suppose it's been that way for a while, only now I'm just realizing it. However, admitting it is the last thing on my mind. With every ounce of courage (Gryffindor, don't fail me now) and guts I have, I reach up and shove him backward, causing him to stumble and nearly loose his balance. My fists clench at my robes as I resist the urge to reach out and grab him, and apologize for what I've done. When I catch the look on his face, I begin to wonder if running would be a better idea, but I stay put, trying to hold my head high as I stare at him. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes are nothing but slits, and if I'm not mistaking, that's his wand he's reaching for.  
  
"I just want to talk with you," My voice is shaking, and I hope it's not apparent to him. I swallow hard and glance again at his hand, which is buried in his robe pocket, obviously grasped around something. "Only...I don't want to talk now. I want to talk to you later. Here, outside the dungeons. Midnight." I want to slam my head against the wall. The dungeons at midnight. Of course I would pick the tame and place of nearly every meeting we had since this first began.   
It's excruciatingly nerve-racking as I stand there, my fingers still clutching the black cloth of my robe. I'm not necessarily nervous because of what his answer may be. I'm curious if there will even be a dignified answer. I know he doesn't respect me a great deal, he never has. But does he think of me as enough of a person to grant a simple request?  
  
He sucks his bottom lip under that top set of pearly whites and rolls the thought over in his mind. At first, his silence unnerves me, but I calm myself down a bit when I notice that his hand as gone lax in his pocket. He merely gives a light nod, and neither of us has to speak for me to know that's my cue to leave.  
  
  
  
  
Lying in my bed fully clothed but under the covers, I'm reminded of the adventures Ron and I used to have at night. Giving the impression we'd gone off to sleep, when in reality, we were ready to take on the world at midnight. Truth be told, I hadn't done much with Ron this past term.   
  
After he and Hermione became so involved, I put all my attention and efforts into Draco. And for what? I wonder if this is the right way to go about things. When was the last time I ever stood up to him? A year ago? I begin to wonder if I even have it in me. If I have the ability to get through to him. I have to try. We've both been destructive, and I've got to try something else.  
  
I sigh and slip myself out of bed before walking down to the common room. There's just the smallest hint of a fire in the fireplace, and I see Chocolate Frog wrappers all over the floor in front of it. Had it been any other night, I might check to see if there were any candies left, but instead my stomach lurches at the thought of food. I can hear the Fat Lady snoring the night away as I shut the portrait door behind me and set off into the torch-laced darkness.  
  
The castle is amazingly cold tonight, and I'm almost sure I can see a trace of my breath in the air every time I breathe out. I wrap my scarf tighter still around my neck as I make my way down to the dungeons, anticipating the sudden drop in temperature that is sure to come when I get there. My teeth chatter as I slowly walk down stone stairs, the echo of my footsteps the only sound in the deserted corridors. I begin to wonder if he'll really be there when I turn the corner. Or if this isn't a replay of the time he tricked me into going out, only with the intention of getting me into trouble. Although, I had to admit, as selfish and cruel as he is, he's a great deal more mature than we were in our First year. A great deal.  
  
It's as if I'm reliving those nights from months ago. My teeth are chattering and I've withdrawn my hands inside the sleeves of my robes in a desperate attempt to gain some warmth. There's a single torch lighting the hallway that I step into, and there, on the brink of shadow and light, he stands. He looks comfortable, as if it's always freezing where he goes. Leaning back against the stonewall, his hands are casually resting in the pockets of his robe. His scarf is undone and it hangs loose around his neck. I can't see his eyes, as they're shielded from my view by the veil of hair that is hanging around his brow. With his head hanging, he looks like the epitome of casual perfection. I can't help but revel in the fact that this person could have nearly anybody in school, and he chose me. It's only when I think about the difference between him loving me, and wanting to keep me as a plaything, that the fleeting thought of smugness passes.  
  
Still, it's strange. I imagine I could've walked this way in my sleep if I wanted to; I've followed the path so many times. Only this time, it's obviously different. There's a stillness in the air around us, and even the heat of the torch can do nothing to warm his cold disposition.  
  
If it were months ago, he would be pacing the hall. Anxious to see me. No, I remind myself, Anxious to get his kicks.   
  
If he can hear my footsteps-and I don't see how he can't- he certainly doesn't show it. He remains quiet and still, not a single lock of feathery gold moving out of place. Only until I'm about a foot away from him does his head jerk up. I stop in my path and expect him to speak to me, but instead he just stares. His eyes aren't as cold as I'd imagine, but his gaze certainly is piercing. He glances me up and down, before meeting my stare. My heart flutters but I force myself not to worry about it. I give a light nod in his direction and walk down the corridor, to what appears to be a dead end.  
  
Fred and George had shown me this once before, and I had decided to show Draco one night, also, to save us the trouble of walking to the lake, or the chance that we'd be caught on an old room. I press my shoulder hard against the stones at the end of the hall and immediately, they give way. The room is rather large, with an old fireplace on one end of it, and bookshelves on the other. My best bet is that it used to be the staff room, but the only thing I know for sure is we're the only souls who have used it in quite some time. There must be an inch of dust at least sitting on top of the mantle place, and the books look more than decrepit.  
  
He walks in behind me, and casually kicks his heel back against a small panel on the wall, causing the door to seal itself up again. He then falls a few inches back against the wall, taking up his leaning position again. Only now his expression isn't so much blank as it is curious. His brow is arced and he's staring intently at me. I turn away from him, taking in a deep breath I pray he can't notice, before running my tongue across my extremely chapped lips.  
I turn around to face him, taking a few slow steps in his direction before stopping to look straight at him. I keep my eyes locked with his for what seems like an eternity, before I finally muster the nerve to begin.  
  
"I bet you thought you were pretty smart yesterday. I don't know many people who exploit their friends to get back at their lovers."   
  
  
I nonchalantly upturn my shoulders in a light shrug, glancing away before looking back at him. He's stone-faced and his eyes are a bit wide. I can tell he's searching for a tone of jest in my voice, but he won't find one.   
  
"Funny you should say that." Sneering, he pushes himself away from the wall, and steps toward me. "It seems to me that's what you spend the better part of your time doing." He inches closer and I struggle to maintain my position. I force a scoff, and manage a weak smirk as I begin to feel my heart pounding in my chest.  
  
"Did you ever stop to think...that the reason I had to play behind your back...was because they were giving me things that you couldn't?" I grinned at him, I'm sure he thought I was doing it to be obnoxious, but in reality, I was grinning because it was true, not because I was happy or because I had said something rude. Not because I had hit him in his ego, where it would hurt the most. But because they had given me something he couldn't; only he had no idea what it was. I'm sure he thinks it's something physical, better kisses, smoother moves, and bigger cocks. The fact that he's clueless makes my grin widen. He's quite upset now. Oh, yes. I can see a vain beginning to appear on his neck and his face is about as red as the color on my scarf.  
  
"What kind of shit is that?! You're so full of it. I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you. You know it, and I know it."   
  
As angry as he is, his voice is faltering. I can tell it's really getting to him, and I'm encouraged to go on with it. His eyes are scanning my expression, and I wonder what it is he thinks he'll see. I can hear him gulp and I glance down to notice the fist that is balling at his side. I've been expecting this. Whenever his emotions get the best of him, you can count on him to use physical force to get his point across.  
  
"If it makes you feel better to say that, then be my guest. But do it with the knowledge that it's wrong."   
  
I'm lying. God knows I'm lying, but for once Draco doesn't. He is the best thing that ever happened to me. The best thing that ever will. Only now there's no time to let him know. No time to even drop a mild hint. I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. I'm struggling to act like nothing matters, to act like he doesn't matter, and it's becoming more difficult by the minute.  
  
Before I have time to think twice, I can see his fist coming at me from my side. I'm sure a swift punch to my face would make him feel a lot better about the situation, and normally I'd allow it. But tonight, I can't. With my Seeker reflexes, it's more than easy to shoot my hand up and catch his fist within inches of my head. I squeeze my fingers around his fist, gripping hard as I stare at him.  
  
"Not tonight, Malfoy. Not tonight."   
  
My voice is quiet, and I have to admit I'm just forcing the words out of my mouth. I can see he's shocked, shocked and confused. His mouth drops for a moment before he snaps it shut, and jerks his hand away from me. I want nothing more than to run into his arms and murmur an apology, but the damage is irreversible as of now. It's obvious he doesn't know what to do next.   
  
I think he's in such a disoriented state, he couldn't hit me again if he tried. He simply stands there, staring at me, and I realize I'm not quite sure what to do next, either. To be honest, I hadn't thought much of this out. Only than to know I wouldn't let him leave without a glimmer of understanding between us. I take a step closer to him, and he'd back against the wall again.  
  
"What makes you so fucking fantastic, Malfoy? I can't kiss anybody else on the side, but you can kiss them right in front of me?" The hurt in my voice isn't obvious, and I know it this time as he looks away from me. "You said it wasn't fair what I did...but how does kissing her make it fair? How?!" I take a tip from him, and grasp onto the front of his robes. I can't bring myself to bash his head against the wall as he'd so gladly do to me, but I know I'm getting my point across. His gaze slowly move up to meet mine and he mutters an inaudible under his breath.  
  
"What was that?" I'm not shouting this time, as I'm genuinely curious as to what it is he's going to say to me.  
  
"I said sorry, damn it! For somebody who's so sorry all the fucking time, I imagine you'd get it."   
  
His eyes drill into mine and I can tell he's angry. Only this time his anger is mixed with a dab of something I know full well is hurt. He's on the receiving end now, and I wonder how long he can take it. Then I wonder how long I can keep it up...I'm hurting him, just like he did to me.   
  
Slowly, I close my eyes and lean forward to whisper softly into his ear.  
  
"Sorry...isn't good enough. It was never good enough for you, and I won't let it be good enough for me."   
  
He writhes against the wall, and I find I've pressed myself against him. His breathing is rapid and forced, and I can tell he's trying to keep it under control. We both know he could shove me off of him this instant and leave, but he doesn't. He's letting me do this. Just like I let him. Pulling back, I bring my eyes to meet his as he starts talking again. His voice is remarkably quiet, and this time he doesn't falter for a moment.  
  
"It was a kiss...I kissed her, Potter. I didn't fuck her. You're the one who fucks everybody! You're the whore, not me. Not me, but you. You did it first, you did it the most, and you made it hurt the worst."   
  
Silence. Both of us are silent as my stare becomes deadlocked. Now I'm the one glancing for a smirk, listening for a laugh, anything to tell me what he's said isn't true. What do I say to that? I knew I was finally getting to him...I knew I was making him feel it. I just had no idea I had hurt him before. I'm sure he hadn't meant for that to come out. And I almost wish it hadn't. Harry Potter hurt Draco Malfoy? That's a story for the Daily Profit. I'm staring at him, but not paying attention. My thoughts are reeling and finally I bring his face back into focus. His eyes are glossy and red, and I can't help but notice how unusually pale he is. I swallow hard and take my weight off of him, letting go of his robes.  
  
When I thought I had finally got through to him, I had been satisfied. But to hear that I had hurt him...to hear it from his lips was something else entirely. For him to hurt would mean he'd have to care. And he doesn't care. He can't care. Not about me. Not about what I do...I'm unconsciously shaking my head, as if that will make it untrue. I wanted him to understand me, not hurt like me. He's gone back to glaring at me again, and I'm glad. I secretly long for him to lash out at me, just to bring some sense of familiarity into it all.   
  
I'm amazed at my own power and strength. That something I could say, or something I could do could have that effect on him...then I realize I'm no better than he is. Hurting another to feel better about myself. No, not hurting another. Hurting him. Hurting the only one who matters...  
It's all too much for me, and take in a few deep breaths, trying to process it all. I turn away from him, but I can still feel him glaring into me. I'm afraid to look up because I know if I do, I'll have to see what I've done. See what I've caused him. I try to remind myself of all the times he's hurt me. Hurt me more than he could imagine. More than...I thought he could imagine, anyway. M emotions are running haywire. My hurt, anger and fear all at once.   
  
Only this time, I'm not the only one who is hurting. And this time, I'm the one who caused it.  
  
Before I know it, I've broken down and I can feel every single tear sliding down my cheeks. Immediately, I cover my face with my hands in an attempt to hide it, but I can't. The salty drops leak between my fingers and the embarrassment of letting him see me like this only adds to the flood. I'm not crying anymore, I'm sobbing...I wonder what he thinks of me right now, and I almost lift my head to check and see if he's left in disgust. But before I've gotten the chance, I'm being pulled forward. As my sobs quiet down, I realize my face is buried in his chest. For one horrible second I wonder if I've made a fool of myself by clinging to him in a moment of desperation. But the feeling is soon erased from my mind as I feel a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me closer. 


	8. Section Eight

He's trembling against me. Sobbing openly, for the first time, into my chest. I'm repulsed and entranced at the same time. Yet, this time, in the blur of all my emotions is a compassion I don't think I've ever felt before. I'm holding him...my arms are tight around him, and I know what I'm doing is exactly right. That my sole reason for existence in this moment is to do nothing more than embrace him.  
  
I must say, this stupid, stupid boy has caught me off guard. He knows it of course, he knows and he feels terrible...and so do I. Terrible that I confessed my feelings? Terrible that he knows he hurt me? No, terrible because he's hurting. A few months ago it wouldn't have mattered. In fact, last week I probably wouldn't have cared.   
  
My attempt to get at him by kissing Pansy seems mere child's play to what he's accomplished with me. I daresay he's been paying quite a bit of attention to me. His annoying, relentless effort to drive me mad, his effort not to care, and his effort to make me feel like crap actually went somewhere. Although, I can't say I was all that convinced. Okay, so that's a horrible lie. He's a better at role-playing than I had ever given him credit for. Too bad it had to come out now and not in...another form.  
  
Prat. What was he playing at? He should've known he'd crack first. It is me, after all...I wonder why. Why he hurts me, why I hurt him but never knew. Why we even met. Why it all happened. Why it all had to happen. Why we're here now. Why the stupid "Boy Who Lived" is the only person I ever loved. Why he's the only person I can love. Because, Draco. Just because.  
  
Absentmindedly, I'm running my hands up and down his back. He's stopped his heaving sobs, but the tear-stained fabric of my robes is still matted against my chest. Taking in big gulps of air, his just barely pulls away from my body, just enough to look up at me. His eyes are red, and his cheeks are quite flushed. It's only as those deep emeralds are scanning my features that I take notice of the tears falling swiftly down my cheeks.   
  
What is he doing to me? Never before have I let my guard down. Never before have I let my emotions get the best of me. And yet, here I stand. Stupid stupid stupid...not only stupid him, stupid me. Stupid me for feeling this way. Stupid me for ever letting him get to me. Nobody else. Nobody else could do this to me, and he knows now. He knows and he's not rubbing it in my face, not making me regret ever showing him. Not doing to me what I would so gladly have done to him...Stupid.  
  
For a brief instant, our eyes are locked, and we're both at a loss for words. I can hear his light breathing, and the soft sound of my hands, gently gliding along his robes, and it's quite calming. Strange, in a way. The last place I'd ever expect or hope to be is the only place I'd want to.  
  
A rogue tear slips past my jaw line, falling down to splatter on the surface of his glasses. It's then that I snap out of my semi-trance state. Immediately, I turn away from him, closing my eyes. I want to scream and run away, but what's the point? He knows everything now. He's seen the effects of what he's done. He knows he hurt me. He knows I hurt him. He knows how I feel now. And I know how he feels. And...it's the same. God damn it, we're the fucking same.  
  
He's moving. His hands are sliding up, cold fingertips brushing against the damp skin of my cheeks. Gently, he turns my head to face him, and my eyes flutter open. Brow furrowed, he stares up at me, through tear-dabbed glasses. It takes me a moment to notice he's chewing most intently on his bottom lip. I nearly laugh out loud at the irony. The fucking same. I keep one arm wrapped securely around him, as I slowly lift my right hand to carefully wipe the moisture from his glasses. Our eyes never leave each other's as he opens his mouth to speak, in a hushed, forced tone.  
  
"I...I never meant to hurt you. I didn't know...I didn't..."   
  
He's shaking his head as he looks up at me, swallowing hard before running his tongue across his chapped lips. Finally, I manage to tear my gaze away from his. I glance out the window for a brief moment before I turn back to him, firm in my belief that I've calmed myself enough to speak.  
  
"You never hurt me, Harry." Oftentimes I've wondered why it is I have to lie about everything, even when everybody knows the truth. Mark of a Slytherin I imagine. Usually I'm well received, but we both know this time it's a lie. My voice is calm, and cool, as usual, but nobody is fooled. His hands are cupping my face and he's forcing me to look at him-not that I'm in any hurry to turn away.  
  
"In that case then...I'm not sorry." His voice isn't mocking or playing. One lie for another.   
  
I'd like to say that it didn't matter, but one can only pretend so much. To hear him say he was sorry-even in such a tense was more than I had expected. More than I had expected, but all I wanted. For him to understand, for him to care, for him to apologize. I'm not sure why I'm so surprised. When was the last time a Malfoy didn't get what he wanted? Too bad I had to go through Hell and back to get it...a sigh escapes my lips and I give a light nod in response to his "non-apology." I'm reluctant to speak, to move, to do anything that could change the moment.  
  
The perfect moment of me holding him, him holding me, and us in an understanding I never thought we'd have. But as much as I hate it, there's got to be something else. My arms tighten around him, and I pull him closer, bringing my face just inches from his;  
  
"I am."   
  
And it's as simple as that. We're moving at the same time, so slow, too slow...but just right. Finally, our lips meet in a gentle kiss, that can only become much more. His eyes drift shut, and mine do the same not an instant later. Cocking my head slightly to the side, I deepen the kiss, gently parting his lips with my tongue. His hands have moved up and his fingertips swim through my hair, keeping our lips together as his tongue meets mine. My hands are gripping the back of his robes, resisting the urge to tear them right off. For a quick second, I manage to just barely pull my lips from his to take in a breath. A low moan escapes his tiers and he's back on me. His kisses trail from my lips, down along my jaw, to my neck. I'm aware that his hands have moved, and my scarf is being pulled from around my neck, only to be flung on the floor.  
  
My head falls back against the stonewall as he continues to kiss, lick, and suck my chilled skin.  
  
His breath is warm, and I can't help but shudder as I draw my hands up, trailing a stray fingertip up and down the back of his neck. I hardly have time to think of the flurry of emotions running through my head, and before I know it, his hands are working expertly to remove my robes. With nimble and swift fingers, it's not long before I'm stark naked and shivering in the cool night air of the empty room. Shivering because of the air, trembling because of him...him and his skills he so likes to keep hidden.   
  
A light smile is gracing his lips as his hands, now a bit warmer, caress my exposed shoulders, arms, chest, and stomach. He seems to take note of the unfair situation and turns his attention to his own attire, yanking off his scarf, which soon joins mine on the floor. I bat his hands away from his robes and place mine where his had been. Making sure to take my time, I undo every clasp on his cloak before pushing it off his shoulders and letting it fall, where it pools around his ankles. He's staring at me, I can tell, but I don't let it phase me as I again move my hands up to the buttons on his robes, painstakingly undoing each and every one before it follows the path of the cloak. My eyes flicker to the now exposed skin of his shoulders and arms. Adored in a white tank top and boxers, he looks absolutely delicious.  
  
Reaching down, I take his hands in mine, carefully entwining our fingers as I kick his clothing away, to stand right against him. I lower my head and place a soft hiss on his shoulder, before moving to the other and repeating the action. He's shivering now, his hands squeezing mine, as I slowly run my tongue along his collar bone, drawing out another moan from him-and this time myself, as well. Reluctantly, I pull my hands from his, only to hook my fingers under the hem of his undershirt, which is resting at his waistline. Dropping to my knees, I gingerly lift his shirt, taking care to kiss every inch of skin that exposes itself as I do so.  
  
Up, and up I kiss, until I'm standing again, sucking and licking on his nipple, as his hands grasp my shoulders. His grip tightens and his fingers knead my muscles as I pull back just far enough to blow cool air onto the wet spot I left behind. He's shivering as I finally pull off his under shirt and cast it aside before giving him a soft kiss to the lips. With a click glance to the pile of clothes on the floor beside us, I outstretch my arms to pull him against me.   
  
Instantly, his arms are around my waist, his fingertips playing at the hem of my boxers. We stand there for a moment before I pivot on my heel, and drop hard on my knees, one on either side of his hips. I think I hear him yelp a bit, but I know the pile of clothes have kept him from getting hurt. I'm still holding up his torso, and his arms are still around my waist as he lies there beneath me, staring up and waiting...just begging to be taken.  
  
  
  
  
  
When I open my eyes, I can't see a thing. It takes me a moment to realize I've got my face buried in the back of his head. So here we are. Lying in a pile of stripped clothing, my arms around him, and his back to my chest. Strangely haunting. I must not have been out long, as it's still dark outside, and he's awake. Clearing my throat, I pull away from him and begin to pick up my clothes. I've never been good at these post-sex chats. What does one say, exactly?  
  
"Thanks for the orgasm, see you later?" Well, maybe a while ago. But not tonight.  
  
He glances up at me as I dress myself, trying not to glance down at the perfect form that's below me. He follows suit, and we dress in silence. As we finish, he tosses me my scarf, and I drape it casually over my shoulders, before shoving my hands into the pockets of my cloak. Neither of us moves as we stare at each other. Where do we go from here? I shake my head, moving a few blonde strands of hair away from my eyes. With a light smile, he steps forward with an outstretched hand to gently brush a few missed locks away, before planting a short, sweet kiss right on my lips.  
  
He moves toward the small panel that will open the hidden door and looks back at me. I wander over beside him as he presses on the panel and the door opens. As I take a step forward, he stops me by grabbing onto my arm. He's glancing around and seems a bit nervous as he speaks, his words coming out quite fast and all pushed together.  
  
"I just...well, I want you to know Draco, that I...Iloveyou. I have for a long time..."   
  
Confessions of love from Harry Potter? What's next? Hufflepuff winning the House Cup? I can tell you, I really don't think I ever expected to hear him say that. Sure, a person can hope, but hope is far from reality.   
  
His hand is tightening around my arm as I stare at him, not moving. Blushing furiously, he lets go of my arm and mutters to himself, drawing back. I would smile at his embarrassed state, but I can't really think straight at this moment. I could make it perfect-tell him I love him, too. I wouldn't be lying; God knows I love him, but not now. There's no reason to get sappy, is there? Damn it, yes there is.  
  
Outstretching my arms, I pull him toward me. He stumbles a bit, but leans against me, his head pressed against my chest.  
  
"A lot of people do, you know."   
  
As he glances up at me, with a mildly shocked expression, I can't help but grin. "But the difference between them and you is...I don't love them back." Somebody call the reporters, I'm actually saying it. As relief spreads across his face, he tilts his head to press his lips against mine. The kiss is sweet, passionate, perfect, and it seems to go on forever. I want to stay in this moment and never leave.   
  
So much can be said in a kiss. I love you...I'm sorry...Forgive me...I understand. And this one said it all. Maybe what we have isn't perfect, but...really...nothing ever is. 


End file.
